The Ending
by Livvy Depp
Summary: Morton Rainey wakes up from a stupor to find himself in the heart of the woods. He seeks help from a lone camper who he meets a few days later and learns shocking information concerning his past...among other things. Please R and R
1. The Ending

The Ending:  
Chapter One  
  
- - : Mort's conscience  
- : Mort  
  
- - Yeah. Okay. That hurt pretty bad. - -  
  
Mort Rainey's eyelids fluttered open to reveal painfully bright sunlight, and a thick gathering of trees. Rather startled by his odd surroundings, he stood, only to swoon and fall to the ground again. His head throbbed. He reached up to feel a large knot underneath his thick, dirty-blond mop of hair. He brought his hand down to his face, knowing what he'd see, but still not wanting to see it at all.  
  
- - Yep! Blood. I mean, how can you not put two and two together in this situation? Waking up in the middle of the forest, big freakin' bump on the back of your head, and it's bleeding when you touch it! Something is most definitely wrong here. - -  
  
This was one of the most unusual situations that Mort had ever found himself involved in. However, in light of everything that had gone topsy- turvy in his life recently, he figured he should learn not to be surprised by anything.  
About a month ago, Mort had found his wife, Amy, in bed with her lover, Ted, at a cheap motel. He'd been crushed, and Mort was now stuck smack-dab in the middle of a big, ugly divorce. Well, actually, he wasn't exactly sure if he was...not anymore, anyways. Amy was dead. She'd been murdered by Mort's newfound psychopathic stalker out to "burn Mort's life and everyone in it like a cane field in a high wind", as he, himself had so subtly put it. The man's name was John Shooter. About a month after Mort had moved out of his big, beautiful suburban house that he had shared with Amy, into their tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere, Shooter had come banging at the door, accusing Mort of stealing his idea for a book that Mort had recently written. You see, Mort was a bestselling writer, but at the moment was consumed by a nasty bout of writer's block. Mort, this depressed, reclusive guy, gets in the middle of a big stink about his story that had obviously not been plagiarized...and the guy threatens to kill everybody Mort cared about. And, as it turned out, it wasn't an empty threat! Mort was on his own, running from Shooter, with no one to help him but himself. Although he hated to admit it, Mort was afraid. He needed to find help, right now. So without another thought on the matter, he began to run, in the opposite direction of his cabin, into the very heart of the woods. 


	2. In The Woods

The Ending:  
Chapter 2 (In the Woods)  
  
Mort collapsed on the ground, now fully aware of how much of a toll his little across-the-woods sprint had taken on his headache. Firstly, it was more physical activity than he'd been involved in since the separation with his wife. And the fact that he had a concussion probably didn't help, either. His forehead felt as though it was in danger of splitting in half. As Mort took inventory of his surroundings, he heard a rustling of leaves coming from behind him. His breath caught in his throat for a moment. Shooter was his first thought. The fact that he should probably be silent flew right over his head and he yelled out the dreaded name. There was no answer...but there was more rustling. Panic coursed through his body as he stood-ignoring the painful head rush it caused-and shuffled over to the bushes to investigate the source of the sound.  
  
- - Yeah, that's right buddy! Just walk over to the rustling bush that probably contains a man you've been running from for half a month, let alone the past two hours! You are just too dumb! - -  
  
- Mind your own business and shut up for once! -  
  
Cautiously, Mort approached the area that the noise had been coming from, and pulled apart the scrubby trees to reveal...a woman. Quite an attractive one at that.  
  
- - Well, I guess you have your occasional lucky breaks, don't you, you dolt? - -  
  
- Don't insult me! You're supposed to be on my side, remember? -  
  
Mort was stunned into silence for a moment, until the lady's alarmed expression turned into an amused one. She opened her mouth and began to speak, in a lilting, musical voice. "Excuse me, sir. Can I...um...help you?"  
  
- - She's offering to help you. Isn't this what you wanted? Tell her you need a doctor already! - -  
  
"I need a doctor." The lady's expression showed shock again. She looked at the side of his head, from which blood was still gushing. "Why, yes you do! Come with me." Mort was stupefied. He allowed himself to be lead into the young woman's tent. The rest of the afternoon was a blur. He was driven to a clinic, and a tiny bald patch and four stitches was his reminder of the day's events. The lady, whose name, he later learned, was Teresa, brought him home, and he became quite intrigued by her. Although she wished him well and left, he was determined to find out more. There was something about her..... Although it was just a suspicion, Mort thought that she knew things that he would do well to learn.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first story, hopefully you like it. I know it needs some work, but I try! Thanks to FrodoFever for your input. 


	3. Headache vs Heartache

The Ending: Chapter 3  
(Headache vs. Heartache)  
  
Flashbacks. They had started small and short, and gotten longer and more painful as the day wore on. Mort fought to push the memories out of his mind, but was unsuccessful. They began with John Shooter. Always Shooter. The first thing he was to learn was how he'd gotten this infernal bump on the side of his head. He'd been running through the forest with no shoes, twisted his ankle the wrong way and bashed his head on a rock. The memories were fuzzy, but always accurate. The next thing to come back was the reason for running in the first place. He'd seen Amy's body in the backyard and had set out to locate John Shithead to give him what was coming to him. And of course, the klutz he was, fell on a freaking rock. Anger and hatred coursed through him like a hot, corrosive poison, threatening to engulf him. He picked up a dirty plate sitting on his coffee table and in a burst of mad loathing, fired it against the wall. A string of nasty curse words escaped his mouth, and he collapsed on the couch, crying like a baby. "I love her! I love her!"  
  
- - Yeah, I know you do. It's a shame she didn't return the favour. - -  
  
- Shut up, you! I don't need that right now! I have enough to go through so shut your friggin' mouth for once in your life! –  
  
- - All right. No need to get all tensed up, cowboy. - -  
  
The thing that bothered Mort most was that he knew that his conscience was right. "Wait a sec. My conscience is right? Maybe I'm going insane. It wouldn't exactly surprise me." He shook away the thought. That was the other thing that irked him. The whole town thought he was nuts. They thought he killed Amy, and all the rest of those poor people who'd been murdered by Shooter. They told him that they hadn't seen anyone, that it had been Mort all along! That was insane. He'd never kill his own wife. The woman he loved. Yeah. Right. Keep dreaming. A pang of sadness washed over him once again, and he brushed a stray tear off his cheek at the thought of Amy. Beautiful, intelligent, caring...he could go on for hours. He still loved her, but he was such an idiot! He'd spent all his time on his stupid story, and completely ignored her. He really didn't blame her for cheating on him. He missed her so much! He had to convince the rest of the town that he wasn't crazy. But was he? That's the thing. He shook himself inwardly.  
  
- - Of course, you're not! What are you thinking? That's disrespecting us both. Give me a break here! - -  
  
His left eyelid began to twitch, as it often did if he was stressed, and he cracked his jaw. It was perpetually locking and giving him trouble. He made a mental note to get it fixed.  
  
- - For the thousandth time, I might add. - -  
  
- Cut me some slack. I've been kind of preoccupied. -  
  
His head began to ache, signifying the fact that it was about time to call it a night. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, just above the mirror. It read 2:30.  
  
- - Don't let your thoughts run away with you, Morty. Go to sleep. - -  
  
And then Mort did something that was more rarely seen than a polar bear walking down the street in California. After taking some aspirin, he listened to his conscience and went to bed. 


	4. Startling Decisions

The Ending: Chapter 4  
(Startling Confessions)  
  
Mort stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, clad in a housecoat, with a towel loosely tied around his blonde head. For a person who wasn't all that concerned with his appearance, he wasn't bad looking. He had a chiseled jaw, high, angular cheekbones, slanted brown eyes, and a warm smile. His hair was always kind of messy, as though it hadn't been brushed, but not for lack of trying. It had always been that way. All in all, he was not great, but not bad, either. Truth be told, he knew that some of the women in town thought that he was a little bit more than "not bad". They thought he was downright handsome. That was, of course, before the...incidents that had plagued him and Amy.  
  
- - Yeah. I get the picture. You're a real looker. Now wake up, Casanova. Somebody's knocking. - -  
  
Mort's heart began to race. Shooter? No. Of course not.  
  
- - You're getting a little too paranoid now, chum. Just get the door. And hey, you may want to get some clothes on first. - -  
  
- You're right about the door thing...I guess. But no time for the clothes. I'll just have to grin and bear it. Literally. -  
  
Mort rushed downstairs and flung open the door. It was Teresa! Mort's surprise quickly turned to embarrassment as he looked down at his tattered attire. Teresa was in mid-knock. In spite of herself, she burst out laughing. "It's nice to see you too, Mort!" Not willing himself to speak, he gestured toward the inside of his small living room. Taking the hint, Teresa followed.  
  
- - HA! I told you to put on something decent. I just know these things. Trust me next time. - -  
  
- Don't even go there, bud. -  
  
Steadying himself on the couch, Mort ventured a question. "What brings you to this area, Teresa?" She grinned, revealing dazzling white teeth, and dimples on either side of her mouth.  
  
- She's beautiful. Really, really, beautiful. -  
  
- - MORTON RAINEY! WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?! You can't be hitting on her! Not now! You barely even know her. I know that this is just because you're getting over a major loss right now, but still... - - But Mort wasn't listening. He was focused on her glistening chestnut hair, her sparkling eyes, lovely smile, and olive skin...so many things. She was so sexy, sitting there on his couch...  
  
- - What the hell are you thinking, man? Yeah, she's pretty hot, but not THAT hot. Think of Amy! - -  
  
- C'mon. Lighten up. I'm allowed to have some fun once in a while, aren't I? Gimme a little bit of time with her. Okay? - -  
  
- - All right, but this is against my better judgment. I'm leaving you totally responsible for your actions. - -  
  
Mort gave a small smile at the decision he'd arrived at in his mind. Ask why she'd come here, and if she wanted to stay, she could stay. There was a buzz of guilt tugging at the back of his mind, but for the moment, he pushed it away. Then Teresa began to speak. "Actually, I was down here visiting a friend, and I thought I'd stop by just to see how you were doing. I mean, you seemed so...disturbed the first time we met." Mort grinned. "Well, it wasn't the best day of my life, to say the least, but you definitely helped me out a lot!" Teresa smiled shyly, but the smile faltered. "Mort. There is one other thing. Please, forgive me for being so forward, but I like you. I really like you. I was wondering if you'd like to spend some time with me today." Mort was startled. This was playing directly into his hands. She liked him...he liked her.........AMY. What about Amy? If anything, it was the sadness over Amy that made him do it. He needed to forget. So in answer to Teresa's proposal, he leaned over and laid a gentle kiss on her soft lips. 


	5. Deathly Disgrace

The Ending: Chapter 5  
( Deathly Disgrace)  
  
"YOU-ASS-HOLE!" Mort punctuated the sentence with short punches directed at the wall. He hated himself. He'd never forgive himself. Last night, Teresa had come to his house to check up on him. Out of sadness and guilt over Amy, he'd kissed her, and as the night progressed, things happened that he would never forget as long as he lived. He loathed himself. He'd been unfaithful to Amy, and he'd done it out of self-pity.  
  
- - That's all it was! SELF-PITY! You are such a jerk, Mort Rainey. You deserve everything that happened to you. YOU HAD IT COMING! - -  
  
- I know. I do deserve it, don't I? Amy should've just married Ted and had it over. Then I could wallow in my misery without any hesitation. -  
  
Mort didn't love Teresa, not one bit. Yeah, she was gorgeous, and she was a nice girl overall, but the only woman he could ever love had been murdered. By himself no less! He knew it. Shooter hadn't done it. There never was a Shooter to begin with. He was a fabrication of Mort's anger and guilt that he'd felt over the whole divorce. Mort had killed innocent people without knowing it. He was crazy, and he'd turn himself in. He stole a last glance around his beloved cabin...yes, beloved, in spite of all the memories that were associated with the place...and he left, for good.  
  
- - Wait a sec, Mort! Think about your situation for a second. Crazy people don't know they're crazy, do they? - -  
  
- I don't know, but I can't take that chance. -  
  
- - Come on, old friend. Give it a day. Then you can decide if you want to be stuck in jail for the rest of your life. - -  
  
- I DESERVE IT! -  
  
- - You said it yourself. You did it because you were angry. Angry and depressed. They're human emotions, and people do stupid things because of them. Give it a day. - -  
  
- But I'm a murderer! -  
  
With that, Mort began to cry. He jumped into his forest green Jeep Grand Cherokee and stuck the keys in the ignition. He stepped on the gas and drove. Just drove. Maybe it was a mix of the tears, sleepiness and rusty driving that did it, but let's just say that Morton Rainey committed one final murder that night. He drove over a cliff and was never seen again........not alive, anyway.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, that's it! Hopefully you enjoyed it, and more will be coming soon, probably in either the Pirates of the Caribbean area, or something more along the lines of Edward Scissorhands. Johnny Depp either way!:-D By the way if you liked this (and even if you didn't) check out Secret Window II: Reopening the Window by DeppsterGal. It's amazing. 


End file.
